Chương 91: Under Arrest

"I'm afraid you can't arrest me, my friend," Eoin said, smiling.

"My employer is a somewhat higher authority." Caolán shrugged.

"That may be. But until they show up here and demand your release, I find that I can do whatever I want. Three hundred of my soldiers surrounding you sort of give me all the authority I need." Cormac growled softly.

"Three hundred might not be enough." The dark haired teenager scoffed.

"Try it." Caolán smiled.

"This is Jarlath. I hunted him down especially for you, Cormac! You gave me such trouble the last time we met that I knew I needed a countermeasure."

"He's a Curse Adept," Eoin said dismissively.

"Probably why you saw all those black threads."

"Another Luck Nature?" Cormac asked, stunned.

"I never thought I'd meet anyone else."

"You still haven't," Eoin said.

"He's Life Nature, Curse Adept. Still rare, but not as rare as you."

"Ah," Cormac said sympathetically.

"Not always easy playing catchup. I can understand the frustration."

"I'm not frustrated!" Jarlath snapped.

"My curses were plenty good enough for us to catch you, weren't they?"

"In the end it doesn't matter," Caolán said, patting Jarlath's arm sympathetically.

"I don't need him to beat you. I just need him to slow you down enough so that the three hundred soldiers I have surrounding you - the ones you were so dismissive of - can run you through."

"Fine," Miriam said, exchanging glares with Eoin.

"We're arrested. What now?" Caolán nodded.

"Ah, fair question. I'm going to give you exactly what you want."

"What we want?"

"Indeed. We're going under the ground and we're going to retrieve the Heart of Iron." Eoin stood up straight, excitement bubbling off him.

"So it's true then? That's what's buried under Teilgcheárta? I had my suspicions, but it seemed too outlandish to be real!"

"It is," Caolán said, floating up higher until he was eye-to-eye with Eoin.

"In fact, when I heard you were here I knew I had to accelerate my plans. If master gemsmith Eoin Daithi got his hands on the Heart, there would be no hope for me to acquire it."

"So you'll let me examine it?" Eoin said, the ravenous curiosity Miriam had come to distrust so highly consuming his face.

"Once you have it?"

"Of course," Caolán said.

"I could hardly have an artisan such as yourself in my custody and not make use of him."

"Excellent," Eoin said, beaming.

"Well what are we waiting for? Surely we can leave these two here and get about the business of getting the Heart, yes?"

"I am not a stupid man, Eoin," Caolán said.

"I may be a Fifth, but there is not a man in this camp, myself included, who would dare to call himself your equal. Once we got underground I would be a dead man and you would walk happily out, the Heart tucked into your pocket." Eoin's eyes twinkled.

"And with them underground with us I won't do that?"

"No, you won't," the pixie said. Faster than Miriam thought possible, a thin band of iron locked around her neck. Fire raced around her throat and she lost her breath in an instant, falling to her knees. Choking, she grabbed at the metal ring, only for her fingers to scorch. Behind her stood Keavy, a chain of bronze leading from the ring to her clenched fist. It seemed that Cormac had dodged, the iron circlet smoking on the dying grass below.

"I will kill them both with cold iron before you get a chance to sneeze," Caolán said flatly.

"Keavy is Fourth, but very nearly Fifth herself. She can pull that chain fast enough to do irreparable damage to the dryad, and at least damage Cormac, once we've collared him. I have not heard you to be a sympathetic man, Eoin, but I happen to know a little something about your actual mission here. I think the dryad losing her head would displease your employer greatly." Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Miriam felt a surge of anger.

As if she were nothing but a pawn for the Eternal King. A chip for Eoin to bargain with. Looking at the dozens of swords around her, she knew trying to make trouble would be stupid. Internally she found pragmatism at war with pure, petty spite. In an unusual turn for her, pragmatism lost by a mile. She dug her fingers into the dirt. Tree-spears launched behind her with blinding speed, overcharged with Miriam's enormous fórsa.

The first clipped Keavy's hand, sending the bronze chain flying as blood spurted from where the spear pierced her palm. Miriam clasped one hand around the locking mechanism of the iron circlet, ignoring the burning pain to choke the lock with vines. The fórsa died on contact with the iron but Miriam was relentless in forcing more and more dead plant matter into the lock, until the mechanism itself couldn't handle the pressure.

"Enough of that," Caolán said with an arrogant lilt to his voice. As the iron band broke away it was replaced by one that seemed no weaker - the pixie's own hand, closing around her throat. His Fifth strength was undeniable.

"Not by a long shot," Miriam forced out, grabbing Caolán's arm. Liquifactive Necrosis. Miriam burned fórsa as fast as she could to fight the pixie's Fifth Ring constitution. It was like pushing a boulder through mud. Every inch she gained took more than she thought she had, but after months fighting opponents stronger than her she understood what she needed to do. Her power was a waterfall against the sturdy oak shield of his body, but like a waterfall she was relentless.

She needed only throw everything she had at his defense until she made even the smallest crack. And there it was. A black ring around his own throat choked the breath out of Caolán's lungs as the necrosis took hold. Miriam felt the powerful grip around her throat weaken, just for a moment. Then, she tried something it had never occurred to her to do. She reared back and punched Caolán as hard as she could in the jaw.

He should have been fast enough to dodge easily, but luckily - Cormac's doing maybe - he seemed content to take the hit. On its own, that would have been nothing - a Second hitting a Fifth was like a child slapping a seasoned warrior. But this time she put the power of Raging Current behind her elbow and her strike landed with all the power of her considerable fórsa. Caolán's fingernails left bloody furrows in her neck as she sent him flying deeper into the camp.

"Get close!" Eoin shouted, and instantly she and Cormac were wrapped in cloud.

"Miriam! Give us a push! Fast as you can!" Gasping for fórsa, Miriam gave all she had to another Raging Current, this time set to push the cloud forward. Boosted by this technique, the bubble of mist shot through the camp like a cannonball. Luckily for them, Miriam and Eoin had planned for the same destination. The entrance to the tunnels lay open, and everywhere in their path Sidhe dove out of their way.

"Who's this new reckless Miriam?" Cormac teased.

"I think I like it." Miriam smiled, breathing heavily.

"I think I like it too." ✧✧✧ Interlude 10 Huddled behind the hay bale, Miriam waited for her… new friend? Captor? Patron? It was complicated. Well, at any rate, she waited for Namiah Hallonel to be assassinated. For the last few minutes Miriam had kept silent, even as Namiah called out to her tentatively from the carriage. His voice became more desperate, pleading. He had his own rifle, but even sticking his head out would mean death. He was truly screwed. It was difficult for Miriam to wait.

Her blood demanded action! While Namiah might not be a friend yet he at least was an ally. Without his connections she was not sure of getting out of the city with her head still attached. She should charge in and rescue him! No. Be the rabbit, not the bear. She remembered her father's words. The good thing about Namiah being stuck in the carriage was that the shooters also couldn't get to him where they were.

They peppered the vehicle with bullets, but the wood was sturdy enough that they had no guarantee of hitting their target. They were going to have to close in on it. Meanwhile Miriam was also trying her best to pinpoint the origins of the shots. The shooter who had tagged her on her escape from the carriage was hidden behind the haybale. She couldn't see anything without exposing herself. But the first shooter, who had taken out the driver and the horses, was in clearer view, in between the hay.

Miriam could kill that shooter now if she wanted. But if she did so, the other would not advance to the carriage. It would expose that Miriam was still in the fight when she had done all she could to make it seem otherwise. She was lucky in that two things happened. The shooter behind her was the one to advance, being covered by the shooter in front. She could hear the sound of approaching feet on gravel, moving slow and careful. The other was that Namiah Hallonel chose this moment to make his last stand.

He roared out of the carriage, stupidly - a very bear thing to do, she reflected. His own rifle snapped to his shoulder, he searched around desperately for his target. At that moment Miriam squeezed her trigger twice. First at the front shooter, second after popping up behind the hay bales, drawing a bead on the approaching assassin, and firing. She didn't bother to see if the first shooter fell. It had been a clean shot.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been quick enough to spare Namiah, who collapsed to the ground, a pool of blood spreading over his shirt.